Empathetic
I don’t know myself
or who owns my eyes.
I feel like an actor;
a ghost, a disguise,
I’m a colorless stranger
and I let myself rot;
but others are special,
and them, I do not.
Their troubles are mine,
about them, I care,
I urge them to speak,
to vent and to share.
I enter their bodies
and cleanse them of pain;
they grow lighter and free,
and comfort, they gain.
I may not be certain
of who I may be,
but I’m sure that compassion
is a big part of me.